Toska
by TheUn-POP-ableBubble
Summary: Arthur's never risen and Merlin is running out of heart to break. A post 5.13 short story that ends happily but tragically. Rated T just in case but also because I can't believe there would be 9 year old kids on here. So please be 13.


**This is a fic written for and dedicated to Demi (adelynn0o on tumblr), a friend of mine who has created so many lovely - if heartwrenching - works of art pertaining to the show Merlin. This is a creation of my own that has been written as a tribute/gift to her because she inspires so much in me and in others.**

**This disclaimer states that the characters of Arthur and Merlin are not of my own creation and are the creative property of the writers and creators of BBC's _Merlin. _Also, I am making no monetary profit through this story.**

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_..:_**T**_:..:_**O**_:..:_**S**_:..:_**K**_:..:_**A**_:.._

It should perhaps be startling when Merlin realizes it's been centuries. Years upon decades upon centuries since eyes that shone without the help of magic fell closed.

It's been _centuries_ since Arthur (_they both_) died.

But only weeks since he's last thought about him.

Wait. No, that wasn't right. The Arthur he'd been thinking about at that time was his co-worker with the dark skin and darker eyes who always bought their boss an extra coffee because he was a complete brown-nose. And, now that Merlin really thought about it, the blond hair he'd been dreaming of in the week before that belonged to the fur of his pet golden retriever. Mention of crooked teeth in the chit-chat months ago had made him think of Nancy's daughter, Tabitha.

Good God, the last time he'd thought of _Arthur_ had been…

Oh. That encompassing, crippling heartache is probably why he hadn't brought him to mind.

But even now, Merlin sees that the heartache also brings forth an image of Kat (_lovely Kat_) who carries silken fire in her hair and bright affection in her eyes. This heartpain for the dead and gone is the reason he's rebuffed her past advancements. She's said she will not make another.

His heart aches worse now. He decides in that moment that he wants it to stop, suddenly exhausted from the years and history he realizes he's lived through and forgotten. Surely… _surely_ he can forget this too. (_Forget him? He said he never would. He said -_)

"I'm going to forget you, Arthur."

Silence answers him. This is maybe because he is saying this to his cool bed as he stands before it dressed for sleep, but he long ceased his visits to Avalon's Lake (_ever since the lake dried and a children's playground grew upon it and his hopes dashed that much further_). Anywhere serves as a place to talk to his resting other half now. Anywhere is suitable for this kind of prayer.

"I mean it. I'm going to forget you because I don't want to remember you anymore. There are so many people who know our story now, so many people to love and remember you, you don't need me to do it for you anymore."

He expects a light cuff to come from the air. There always used to be, in the early years when he talked to Arthur like this. But he was speaking to the Lake then, and the air in his bedroom remains still and cool. He gets angry; Arthur must know he isn't joking.

"You can't blame me for wanting this, Arthur! If you knew how much I –" Merlin chokes on nothing because nothing is there. Still, he coughs up, "You have _no right._ I'm not the one who left, you can't _blame _me…" He chokes again because nothing is still there.

He'd say 'prat' if Arthur were there to say 'idiot'. He's not. He isn't. Never, not once in centuries of history has nothing been anything but nothing. And he _hurts_. He _aches_, and he _bleeds_ on the inside because love has always torn him apart and he's never loved so hard or so long the way he's loved Arthur Pendragon.

And now that he's in tatters, in pieces, in shreds, he can finally let it go.

"I'm going to forget, Arthur."

But of course he can't. He's got one more piece to rip away. With all the magic he might have left, Merlin wishes a final time for Arthur to rise and live, for a prophetic vision, for a Sidhe to appear, for _something_ to come to him in _his_ hour of need.

He feels his eyes stay blue. He feels the air stay still.

Blue colour darkens with the tears Merlin sheds as he weeps and the void in his heart tightens with his unvoiced plead, '_Please come back before I do this. Please come stop me, Arthur. Please, just _please_ give me a reason, I'll take any excuse to keep waiting._'

His tears are the only thing to keep him warm all through that long, silent night.

By the morning Merlin is being warmed by the sun outside his window and his snoring dog lain out beside him. He smiles brightly, in a way his muscles have nearly forgotten, brushes his hands through smelly fur and weighs the pros and cons of asking Kat out to coffee versus dinner.

It turns out to be a picnic in the park near a children's playground with the two of them and the dog. And then a day-long road trip to nowhere, also with the dog. Without the dog happens Friday evening at paintball but he reappears Friday night at Merlin's place (though not Friday night in Merlin's bed).

Their friends laugh ("What could go wrong in a relationship between a merlin and a cat?") and then they congratulate ("Oh my God, you're engaged?!").

At their wedding reception, in the park next to the playground where they had their first date, Merlin feels an invisible cuff once Gareth's bestman speech is over. Merlin shrugs it off, he's imagined such things before and it's been windy all day anyway.

(_He did forget._)

(_And Arthur never came._)

(_But at least Merlin never knew to be sad about it._)

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**The word _toska_ is Russian and it has a massive, encompassing meaning. If translated into English, a not-at-all-near-close approximatation is _nostalgia_. But really, _toska_ "refers to the anguish felt in response to the absence of something which is loved very much; the thing which is yearned for is often intangible and impossible to actually obtain, which ascribes a particularly tragic, poetic significance" (Dyavola, An Elegy for Passion). This poetic element perfectly suited this fic and the agony behind it, I felt. **

**I hope this fic was, if not enjoyable, at least moving for you.**


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